


Lucky Strike

by moonix



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Bonfire Night, Kissing, M/M, Team Bonding, as in some serious making out, autumn vibes, hand-holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 05:09:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16010945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonix/pseuds/moonix
Summary: The Foxes have a bonfire night and Neil struggles with some demons, but ends up having a good time anyway.





	Lucky Strike

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lolainslackss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolainslackss/gifts).



> For Rebecca, who is one of my all-time favourite writers and an overall rad person and awesome friend, ilu <3
> 
> Cheers to Alex for reading this over for me and cleaning up some bits, you're a star!
> 
> Title from the Troye Sivan song because I’m trash and can never come up with good titles that aren’t from songs eyyy

“You look like you’ve got demons to exorcise, Josten.”

Allison sits down next to him on the log, flipping her long braid over her shoulder. She looks like a lumberjane queen, swathed in rabbit-soft flannel and brand new denim, boots laced up to her knees. Neil musters a splinter of a smile for her before going back to staring at the merry bonfire in front of him.

“Seriously,” Allison says. “Tonight’s supposed to be fun. You’re not having fun, and it’s painful to watch.”

Neil closes his eyes, but the dancing flames are imprinted on his eyelids. He knows he’s stewing in ghosts, but it’s hard not to, when the last time he was this close to a fire was when he burned the corpse of his mother.

“Sorry,” he croaks out belatedly, followed by a small, “I can’t.”

There’s a little silence that crackles like the wood in the bonfire, then an arm settles itself across his shoulders, pulling him against Allison in a hard, brittle embrace.

“Listen,” she says, warm breath puffing against his temple. “I know you and Renee don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things, but she’s got one thing right, you gotta let shit go every once in a while or it’ll eat you up.”

“Yeah,” Neil says, surprised at how hoarse his voice sounds, “yeah.”

“Glad we’re in agreement here,” Allison huffs, squeezing her arm around him again, then reaching up to ruffle his hair.

Neil considers saying something gruesome, like _I can still smell her burning flesh_ , but despite the fact that half the Foxes are wearing early Halloween costumes and Nicky keeps howling at the moon because he’s a sexy werewolf, he thinks it would be misplaced.

“Have you eaten?” Allison asks. Neil shakes his head and she clucks her tongue disapprovingly. “I’ll get you something. Don’t you dare move.”

She leaves him to brood by the fireside, melting back into the shadows of the other Foxes. Their team is so much bigger this year and it makes Neil feel unbalanced, torn between his friends and not-quite-strangers. He watches some of the freshmen clustered by the gigantic bowl of spiced apple cider, still wary of their surroundings, still wearing that hunted look that Neil knows so well, like old clothes knitted from experience. They seem docile enough right now, but Neil and Dan have had to break up three fights in practice today and he doubts that will be the end of it.

Allison returns and hands him a plate so full Neil is amazed she managed to carry it over without spilling any. There’s some of almost everything from the buffet, from potato and pasta salad to pumpkin pastries and Abby’s meatballs. Allison does something tricky with the two bottles of ginger ale she brought and there’s a pop and a hiss as the caps come off.

“Here,” she says, “to making space.”

“Right,” Neil mumbles, letting his bottle clack against hers.

She keeps him company while he makes an effort to eat everything on his plate, occasionally chatting to one of the others when they come over to warm their hands at the fire. Dan is making her rounds among the freshmen, doing her best to coax them out of their shells, but Matt joins them for a bit and tries to show Neil how to make bread on a stick. After three charred attempts, he concedes defeat, laughing at himself.

“Hey,” he says when Neil barely reacts beyond a half-hearted chuckle. “You alright, buddy? Wait, don’t answer that. Allison, is he alright?”

Neil pushes his mouth closed on a, “Fine,” and chases a few errant pieces of corn around on his plate. The firelight licks greedily at a smear of mustard and he misses Allison’s answer and whatever Matt says next. He feels uncomfortably full and half unmoored, bobbing helplessly along the current of conversation around him. When he tunes back in, Renee has claimed one of the logs and Andrew stands sentinel behind her.

“Neil?” Renee prompts, softly like she’s been calling his name for a while now.

“It’s just the fire,” he blurts out, gesturing vaguely. Someone has thoughtfully cleared away his plate and Allison’s hand is rubbing gentle patterns into his shoulders.

He catches Andrew’s eyes across the fire. His face is impassive, but Neil can tell what he’s thinking: that he’s an idiot for sitting so close to it, if it bothers him so much.

“It’s fine,” he says dully, to no one in particular. “I’ll get over it.”

“You don’t have to,” Matt says earnestly. “We can extinguish it, or…”

“Or you can stop prodding and poking him for holes and leave him be.”

Both Matt and Allison look surprised at Andrew speaking. It’s been happening more and more lately, Andrew acknowledging the other Foxes’ presence, but the novelty still hasn’t worn off. Renee is the only one who doesn’t startle, a tiny smile caught in the corner of her mouth like a burr.

She suggests playing a game to take Neil’s mind off the flickering flames in front of him. Soon they are joined by more people, flocking to the fire and the laughter, and the bodies pressing in on both sides of him make Neil feel pleasantly crowded. He’s still got one foot in the sand on the beach in California, but the fire is less funeral pyre now that people are toasting marshmallows and singing off-key all around him.

Once the fire has burned down from hellhound to lapdog, Dan claps her hands and shouts to get everyone’s attention.

“Foxes, it’s time,” she announces. “Everyone sober enough to make the jump, line up here.”

It’s a ritual they came up with when discussing how to inaugurate the new crop of Foxes. Dan shepherds the freshmen into some semblance of a line, checking if they can still walk straight to her satisfaction. Nicky gets gently pushed back to be minded by Aaron, giggling and reeling on his feet, then Dan takes the front and Renee takes the back. Neil watches as Dan takes a running leap over the fire, to applause and cheers from the rest, letting out a bellow as she does. The freshmen follow her lead, some silent, some hollering or laughing. Neil makes his decision and quietly takes his spot behind Renee, who flashes him an approving grin.

He takes a few more steps back when his turn comes, then starts sprinting, picking up speed so fast it feels like the next gust of wind is just going to pick him up and carry him over. He kicks off hard, feels the heat of the fire below him and hits the ground running, ears filled with the whoops and shrieks of the others.

“Are you done being an idiot?” Andrew greets him on the other side of the circle, hands in his pockets. He’s wearing a turtleneck and Neil grins and lifts his hand, waiting for Andrew’s okay before he touches his neck, tracing the spot where last night’s hickey must be hidden under the fabric.

His hand is shaky and he’s breathing harder than the short sprint warrants, but his chest feels lighter, like he’s left some weight behind in the embers of the fire.

Andrew catches his fingers as they start questing beneath the collar of his turtleneck and pulls them away. Neil winds them through Andrew’s own instead, effectively trapping Andrew’s hand in his, and teases the bottle of hard cider from Andrew’s other hand to take a small sip. It’s strong and sour and cleansing, and Neil tips it to his mouth again for more.

Andrew holds his gaze with steady eyes. He smells like woodsmoke and the sweet shisha pipe he shared with Renee and Nicky earlier, something apple-flavoured, Neil thinks. He finishes the cider and lets the bottle drop into the grass by their feet.

“Walk with me?” he mutters, voice rough from the cider. Andrew squeezes his hand briefly and they start walking away from the fire, trading silence like a cigarette between them.

Once they’re out of view of the others, Andrew uses his grip on Neil’s hand to spin him around and crowd him up against a tree. Neil tugs him close and strains his neck for a kiss, but Andrew stays a hair’s breadth out of reach, searching his eyes.

“I’m okay,” Neil murmurs. “This is not a nervous breakdown.”

“I know,” Andrew growls. Neil strokes his thumb over Andrew’s knuckles as he waits for him to decide; back and forth, back and forth. His callouses catch on a healing scab and Andrew shudders and digs the fingers of his other hand into Neil’s shoulder.

“You gonna kiss me or are we gonna stand here forever?” Neil challenges.

Andrew snorts and drops his gaze to Neil’s mouth, licking his lips. Neil sighs when he finally closes the last wisp of space between them, his body pressing Neil to the tree and his mouth working tiny, smoke-scented kisses just under Neil’s jawline. Neil finds the collar of Andrew’s turtleneck again and tugs it down, smoothing his fingers over the soft hair at the back of Andrew’s neck before slipping them down over the hickey with a hum.

“Shut up,” Andrew tells him, and Neil laughs into the kiss when their mouths smudge against each other. He lets his legs fall open either side of Andrew, pliant and inviting, and gasps when Andrew boldly rolls his hips against him.

“Maybe we should go back while the dorm’s still empty,” he mumbles against Andrew’s mouth. He can still hear the occasional burst of laughter or sprinkle of conversation from the bonfire, but his legs feel too heavy to move anymore now that Andrew is holding him up.

Andrew reels him back into a kiss, fingers questing under the hem of Neil’s sweater to brush over bare skin. They’re still holding hands, Neil notes absently, but he can’t bring himself to disentangle them. His hand on Andrew’s neck slides down to grab a fistful of his shirt instead, holding on for dear life as Andrew takes him apart with his mouth, all the while rocking gently against him, not enough to get off on but enough to keep a spark of arousal going that makes Neil lose track of time. Andrew unravels him slowly, unrelentingly, until Neil feels fuzzy and stupid and soaked to the brim in Andrew’s warmth and scent.

“You’re,” Neil murmurs, but doesn’t get any further. He tries again, and each time Andrew laps the words from his mouth like they’re honey before he can finish. Neil makes a hoarse, frustrated noise as Andrew’s hips roll against him teasingly once more, and pulls on the back of Andrew’s shirt until he’s afraid he’s going to tear it at the seams.

“You’re a mess,” Andrew hums against his mouth, cradling the back of Neil’s head to protect it from the rough tree bark. He sounds smug, and Neil feels it in his stomach like a twist of ginger and cinnamon, sharp and warm.

“What else is new,” he whispers, lips hitching on a smile that Andrew does his best to kiss off.

It takes them so long to unstick themselves that the bonfire has gone out by the time they make their way back to the dorms. The others must have left already, which means that Kevin and Nicky will be in their bedroom, which means that they won’t do anything more tonight. Neil’s whole body is humming from Andrew’s kisses and he feels shivery now that Andrew’s warmth is gone. He tries to surreptitiously put himself back together on the short walk to the dorms, smoothing down his hair and twitching his clothes back into place where Andrew’s fingers have tugged them out of shape.

He pulls Andrew to a stop outside their door. Everything is quiet except for some murmurs from the girls’ dorm, and Neil lets his eyes trail over Andrew’s tousled hair and kiss-bitten lips and tries to lick the smirk from his lips before Andrew tells him to shut up again.

“Now who’s the mess?” he wonders quietly, patting down the collar of Andrew’s shirt on one side.

“And whose fault is that,” Andrew retorts blandly.

“Mine,” Neil grins, thumbing the hickey on Andrew’s neck one more time.

“You are a nuisance,” Andrew tells him. He unlocks the door and pulls Neil inside, and they finally let go of each other’s hands so that Andrew can go to the bathroom and Neil can get himself something to drink.

He pours milk into a glass and sips it slowly, leaning against the counter and staring into space. He’s finished his glass by the time Andrew is done in the bathroom. To Neil’s disappointment, he looks somewhat more composed, and Neil has the instant urge to bury his hands in Andrew’s hair again and tease it back into dishevelment.

The next morning, Neil grabs his discarded hoodie and pulls it on as he waits for the coffee to finish brewing. The fabric still smells like bonfire smoke, but instead of unsettling him, he thinks of being surrounded by friends, taking a leap, and being kissed silly against a tree for the better part of a night.

He yawns and smiles into his sleeve, wondering if Allison would approve of his rather unorthodox methods of exorcism.

“Good riddance,” he mutters to himself, and toasts his remaining demons with his coffee cup before taking a sip.


End file.
